Page 15 of A Prescription to My Heart

Marigold is beside her, perched on a stool, chin propped on her palm as she watches Talia with wide eyes.

They’re both smiling.

Where is that nanny?

But when I go for my phone, I realize there is a text from Nina explaining yet another “family emergency.” I need to fire that girl.

When I look up again, there is a wooden spoon in Talia’s hand, flour dusting the counter, the warm glow of the kitchen lights softening the edges of the moment—if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this wasnormal.

I clear my throat. “What is going on?”

Marigold turns, all bright eyes and enthusiasm. “Talia’s making dinner.”

Like that explains anything.

Talia glances at me, arching a brow. “Nice to see you too.”

I ignore her. “Marigold,whyis she making dinner?”

Marigold shrugs. “Nina had to leave, and I invited her.”

I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “And you didn’t think toaskme first?”

“Why would I?” she says easily. “You wouldn’t have said yes.”

I scowl. “Exactly.”

Talia snorts. “Glad we got that settled.” She turns back to the stove, flipping something in the pan with practiced ease.

Like I’m not standing here. Like shebelongshere.

I step forward, lowering my voice. “What are you doing?”

She doesn’t look at me. “Cooking.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She finally meets my gaze, and there’s something defiant in her eyes. “Your daughter needed someone to watch her, and she invited me over. I didn’t see a reason to say no.”

I do. I see a hundred reasons.

I don’t want her here, laughing with Marigold, filling my house with warmth that hasn’t existed since Lisa died.

A pain twists in my heart, but I shove it aside. Ignore it. Focus. Talia is moving through my kitchen like she’s been in it a hundred times before—like she knows exactly where everything is.

I glance at Marigold, who’s watching Talia as if she hung the moon.

That irritates me more than it should.

I cross my arms. “I hope you’re not expecting me to eat whatever this is.”

Talia rolls her eyes. “I wasn’texpectingyou at all. But since you’re here, you might as well try it.”

I scoff. “I don’t do homecooked meals.”

“What, afraid you might like it?” she asks with a smirk.

My jaw ticks.

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